The Ides of March
by goldencompass
Summary: Written for the OCSFC4.  My sentence was Trey turns up at Ryan's dorm  without warning.


It was March, that odd space between mid-terms and finals, when Ryan first congratulated himself. Seven months - seven _whole months_ without any drama. Maybe there was something in the air in Berkley; maybe this was why Seth had gone on and on about the place for years.

He could almost forgive that now, because he was starting to believe in the magic.

Sure, he was far too old to believe that sort of thing. But still – a new house (complete with a room inside), a new little sister, a bizarre but interesting relationship with Taylor, and of course, college. Given where he had been just 5 years ago it certainly seemed like magic.

So as the climb began towards the dreaded final month of his first year at college, Ryan Atwood congratulated himself on not massively fucking up a good thing.

He should have known.

ococococococococ

"Ryan, I didn't think you were the type to get high, but whatever. Just don't have your dealer come by the room alright?"

Those were the first words out of his roommate's mouth when he got back to his room that afternoon. He'd had a full load of courses that day and was looking forward to sleeping for a very long time. So, for a moment he thought exhaustion was causing him to hear things, because -- what the fuck?

"What?"

"Some shifty looking guy came looking for you earlier. I don't even know how he got in. Doesn't anyone follow the "make them show their keys" rule?"

Ryan gave in to temptation and rolled his eyes. He was willing to bet all his savings that David was the only person in the dorm who did. And so far no disastrous events had befallen anyone.

"Did this 'shifty'-- " Who the hell said shifty anyways? "Did this guy leave a message or a name or anything?"

He watched as David flipped through pages on his desk and pulled out a Post-It note.

"Yeah. His name's Trey. Here's his number."

Ryan barely managed to function well enough to grab the paper. He had to blink several times to make the writing come into focus. Yep, it definitely said 'Trey', and underneath David had scrawled a long distance number.

"Trey? Are you sure you got the name right?"

"Yeah Ryan." The other freshman said with exasperation. "He made sure I was very clear on it. He **spelled** it for me." David sounded slightly insulted.

Ryan sat down on his bed with a thump. Staring at the fragile, yellow square.

After a moment he said "He's not a drug –he's not my drug dealer."

"Who is he then?"

"None of your business." He replied, more gruffly than he had intended. To be slightly more conciliatory he added "Don't worry, he won't be back."

And with that he grabbed up his backpack and left the room. So much for catching up on his sleep.

He wandered campus aimlessly for a bit and then headed for the library, where he pretended he was reading for about an hour before he gave up the ghost.

It took another hour of pacing in front of his residence before he pulled out his phone, and a further 15 minutes until he pulled the post-it from his pocket and uncrumpled it.

It took mere seconds to dial, but it felt like years.

"Hello?" He was almost surprised at the familiarity in the voice, and he flipped the phone shut, without thinking.

He stared at the little screen and cursed. What the hell had he done that for? Unbidden, Trey's voice was in his head. _Pussy._

He stares at the phone, but can't bring himself to call back. Not yet. But there is one call he needs to make.

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"Sandy Cohen."

There's a slight question in his voice, standard professional greeting.

"Hey Sandy, it's me." Ryan is suddenly aware that he sounds a bit breathless, or maybe sick. Sandy will know something's up.

"Ryan! What's going on?"

Yep.

"Oh nothing really, I just thought--" he begins, but stops himself. His casualness sounds forced even to himself. Plus, he can practically _hear_ the raised-eyebrows-of-doubt from Sandy.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Look, Sandy. I'm gonna come home for the night. Is there enough for dinner?"

"There's always enough take-out, kid" the man replied with a laugh. "Any particular requests?"

"Greek."

"I'm on it. We'll see you later then."

With a quick goodbye he flipped his phone shut for the second time in 5 minutes. No messages. He wondered idly if Trey had call display. He should have thought of that. He had a brief moment of worry at leaving his dorm and roommate while Trey was on the lookout for him, but he dismissed it almost immediately.

Trey'd come to him once. He wouldn't do it again. If contact was wanted, Ryan would have to make the first move. Like always, someone else had started this emotional nightmare, but Ryan would be the one to deal with it. He resists the urge to drop his phone and crush it with his foot.

Gently folding the post-it he tucks it into his wallet.

The drive home is both too long and too short.

ococococococococococococococ

"_I know it sucks being stuck here with them, Ry. But I have to get the fuck out of here. I can't take this anymore. They're crazy."_

_Ryan resists the urge to point out that Trey's lifestyle isn't so different from Dawn and AJ's, but he understands that his brother is trying to have a moment here, so he doesn't say anything. He cannot hide the anger and betrayal on his face, though._

"_Look, Ry. Suck it up. You were gonna have to be on your own someday."_

_I've been on my own for a long time, you asshole, is what he thinks, but immediately knows he doesn't mean it. Well, not the name calling part, anyway. Ryan knows he's just jealous that Trey gets to leave and he doesn't. So he just quirks his mouth upwards in what could be a smile (if you were being generous) and says "Yeah, I know Trey."_

_The relief emanating from Trey is palpable, and there is something akin to a grin on his face. Ryan watches as he reaches into his back pocket._

"_Here. Make sure you keep in touch. You call me any time little brother." He must see Ryan's sceptical look, because he keeps going. "Right. Well maybe I won't always be able to answer, but call anyway. And there's a few bucks on the card. For the payphone if you need it." Trey is holding out a change card with a yellow sticky on the back._

"_Thanks, man." He takes the offering and holds them between his fingers loosely. "See ya Trey."_

_His brother starts to walk out of the room, turns briefly and makes the phone sign with his hand._

_And Ryan does phone. Once. He stands at the payphone on the corner, spitting blood (thanks to AJ) and dials. Some drunken friend of Trey's picks up the phone and hollers loudly for him._

"_Trey man, phone for you. Guys says he's your brother, Ryan."_

_And Ryan can hear in the background when Trey yells "Tell him to call back tomorrow, I'm busy." He doesn't wait for the friend to relay the message, he just hangs up._

_He never calls again. On the way home he drops the card and post-it note down the sewer._

Ococococococ

Sandy lets him finish dinner before pouncing, which Ryan is infinitely grateful for. His foster father even tries to be subtle. He fails, but he does try, which lightens Ryan's mood. In fact, he lets out a snort of laughter when Sandy asks "what's new?"

They are standing at the counter packing away the food. Ryan cannot speak, he just hands Sandy the post it note. The cloud that descends on the man's face is almost frightening in its intensity but it burns out quickly, because in the next moment it's gone and it's familiar, affable, reliable Sandy again.

Ryan isn't fooled, though. He knows that the sleeping dragon that is Sandy Cohen: Ryan's Father has been woken. For the smallest fraction of a second he's glad there isn't an address on that note.

Eventually Sandy hands him back the number and says "Ah. Trey."

Ryan is shocked. That's it? There's nothing more? Where is the font of words that he's used to?

He's so shocked he just blurts it out. "What do I do, Sandy?"

This time it's Sandy's turn to give a small, wry, smile. "I can't tell you that. This needs to be your decision. I am way too biased here to say anything helpful."

_Give me something, Sandy. Don't stop talking now._

"Trey makes me incredibly angry. I invited him into my home and he attacks Marissa, steals, lies. He almost killed you, Ryan. And then, worse than all of that, because he had to have known what it would do to you, he left you. Damn it Ryan, if I have to see you give that sad little wave to one more person walking out of your life, I will not be responsible for my actions."

Ryan hears the slightly joking tone in that last, but he also hears the dead seriousness of the message.

"Trey hurt my child. I do not have any charitable feelings towards him. I cannot advise you on this."

All of a sudden Ryan has to grip the edges of the counter for support as he forces down the tennis ball-sized lump in his throat.

He suddenly feels like he's 15 years old again, transported back to his first week in Newport. What are the rules here? Will Sandy and Kirsten be angry with him if he calls? He had no idea Sandy felt so strongly; sleeping dragon indeed.

Suddenly he feels a hand cupping the back of his neck and he looks up at the man whose opinion matters more than anyone in the world.

"Don't misunderstand me Ryan. Any decision you make will be fine. I will support you no matter what." He realizes then, with the huge amounts of relief he feels, that he does want to call. That he does need to talk to Trey.

But it won't be easy.

"Why do I always have to make these horribly difficult phone calls?" he whines, in spite of himself. He thinks back to calling Teresa from Portland, or the police after the accident. His Mom.

Sandy laughs at him, loudly and whole heartedly before looking serious once more.

"You do have bad luck that way. But you know, sometimes those hard phone calls lead to wonderful results."

Sandy walks away and Ryan has to swallow another tennis ball. Yes – thank god for hard phone calls.

ocococococ

It's almost one in the morning when he finally does. Ryan finds himself sitting on the curb in front of the house clandestinely smoking a cigarette and staring at the sticky note. Trey will still be up, because some things never change.

"Hello?"

"Hey -- hey Trey."

"Ry? Ryan is that you?"

"Yeah it's me."

"I'm glad you called, little brother." Trey sounds sincere.

"Yeah, me too." So does Ryan.

The End.


End file.
